Author Note

For those who have read this story previously (as in you're rereading it), then you should easily be able to tell this is an updated, revised version of the first one. I've been away for too long, so, in order to get back in the flow, I have gone back, checked for mistakes, fixed those, and carefully ensured everything flows the way I want it due to the direction I want this story to go. For those who might be concerned, yes, I still intend to keep the humorous undertone I began with. Hadrian is just that kind of guy. In this one, anyway.

Other information: De Custodia Sanguins translates into 'Wards of Blood.' It's Latin. The concept of Hadrian coming across a rather unexpected outcome in 4 Privet Drive, a new neighbor, who just happens to be the very man who has been trying to kill him since he was a year old. The idea itself just makes me laugh.

Also, since I forgot earlier. I do not own Harry Potter. I do, however, own the ideas in this FanFic.

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Rating: T

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Hadrian Potter was many things, but obtuse he was not.

There was something about getting up at the crack of dawn since he was a child, and working from sunrise to sunset, that installed a healthy dose of not being stupid in his brain. Regardless of what Snape said. Hadrian scowled. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, inky-black bangs matted to his forehead with sweat. The stove was lit, platters of food resting on the low-heat burners, and he idly wandered why they needed to keep the food warm when they were only doing a small social call. Rolling his shoulder, Hadrian frowned.

It was difficult to think clearly. As he tugged the thick coil of hair, raven-black strands twisted into a tight braid, over his shoulder, Hadrian worked to push past the thrumming pain radiating across his body. It was easy enough to do. Petunia, Merlin-bless the woman, was fluttering across the kitchen, hair loose, as she darted from one item of food to the next. Likely checking for anything Vernon - the floor above their head creaked, the wood groaning as someone began making their way through the hallway - would disapprove of. His aunt paused, lips pursed, as Hadrian froze.

Emerald-green eyes darted to the clock. Thirty till nine. Vernon shouldn't be making his way downstairs yet. He whirled around, apron snapping angrily around his waist, as he made sure everything was done. Cookies. On the shelf. Pie. In the refrigerator. Cake? Where was the cake? The soft whisper of coffee being poured into a cup echoed across the kitchen as Vernon reached the landing, and Hadrian knew it was a matter of seconds before the overly fat man entered his, and his aunt's, domain.

"It's in the oven," Petunia murmured into his ear as she past, and Hadrian would have kissed the woman if his uncle hadn't chosen that time, out of all of them, to enter the kitchen. He observed the two of them, pale blonde hair thin and flat on a flushed scalp. Hadrian kept his gaze downcast, hands folded behind his back, as Mr. Dursley observed him. A minute passed before the whale stated, "Cookies, pie, and cake."

Hadrian related the location of each, and peeked through his bangs. After a moment, he added, "They will be ready by nine."

"Good."

Vernon straightened his tie, already dressed, and Hadrian idly wondered what possessed the man. He expected him to be up, yes, but not completely ready by the time the clock hit nine. He had been rather certain it wouldn't be until ten, or eleven at the latest, that they would leave the house to go across the street. It wasn't long before Dudley came waddling into the kitchen, blue eyes tired and sluggish, with a complaint in his mouth. "Why do we all have to go over and say hello?"

Hadrian furrowed his brow as he filled his cousin's cup, his aunt already speaking, "Because that's what neighbors do, Dudley. He just moved in, and Privet Drive can be a rather...daunting place compared to the city. A friendly hand to help guide him is a gesture to be made. Even by you."

Hadrian wasn't sure if he should be surprised or not. He exchanged looks with his aunt, and she made a gesture towards the oven. He bypassed her, donning mittens, as she continued, "All things considered, we want our little quarter of the world to appear as normal as possible. Wouldn't you agree, Vernon?"

"Indeed." The fat man nodded, newspaper opened in front of him. "No freaky things in sight. No robed people swooping in to cast warnings. Not here. Not in our little world. Not a freaky happens here."

Idiot.

Hadrian filled the plates, and quietly escaped into the front room to continue picking up the house. Neighbors. Poor saps didn't even realize what they were getting themselves into by moving here. Hadrian plucked the books off the table, and placed them in the shelf with a light frown as he thought back to the initial surprise of finding out about the elusive people moving in. Not once had they been seen. Not even when an army of moving trucks showed up on their street. He only hoped the trip over there was actually worth it.

Merlin, why do I have to go? It wasn't long before Hadrian was following his relatives out of the house, baked goods in hand, warm and mouthwatering in scent. They crossed the street to the house across from theirs. 7 Privet Drive. Like DADA, the house, the largest on Privet Drive, never seemed to hold a family for longer than a year. It was a rather odd occurrence, and Hadrian was half convinced it might be haunted. Though at least whoever lives here has enough decency to actually try to make the house look a little different.

And they did. The yard's sidewalk was converted to stepping stones, white with veins of emerald laced throughout, that led up to the dark, wooden porch. One of the newer additions, that. Polished wood, potted plants hanging from little notches and metal loops. There was even a swing nestled in the corner, and a table next to it. Homey feeling, this house.

There was also a privacy fence wrapping around the house, which was a nice addition and a smart one. Some of the people around the block were a bit odd, and had the most peculiar need to spy on everyone. More than once had he caught the old dude down the street peeking over the fence when he was in the backyard gardening. The reminder made his nose scrunch in distaste. A nice stinging hex would take care of that...

Even the siding had moved away from the pristine white to an off-white, the stone foundation nearly blending into the porch.

He kept behind his relatives as they stepped onto the porch, and tuned out his surroundings as Vernon knocked on the door. There was the soft lull of conversation, murmured words and pleasantries exchanged, a feeling of someone staring at him, and then they were stepping through the doorway. As Hadrian passed through, he felt like he crossed through a veil of cold water. It swept over his body, and he shuddered. It was almost like stepping through the door to Snape's office. Which was impossible. Because no sane person with magic would move to mundane Privet Drive.

The inside of the house, however, was decorated in a way that was warm. It was alluring. A thick, deep green rug was under his feet, the edges a silvery-white. It was like the cobblestone walkway. White and green. Kind of like Slytherin, though those were two colors people liked. And they looked nice coupled together. As he cast his gaze about, he caught hints of red splashed throughout. Subtle touches. The weaponry on display discouraged looking too closely.

Who the hell moved into this place? From his aunt's look, her thoughts were along the same lines of his.

"Ah, if it isn't Mr. Dursley. How nice of you to come." Hadrian frowned. Was that sarcasm? His gaze slowly lifted, a sense of unease beginning to churn in his stomach as his uncle said, "We meant to come earlier, but my wife thought you'd want to have the first few days to yourself. Though we brought gifts. Boy!"

Hadrian stepped around his cousin, absently admiring a painting on the wall as he stepped up to his aunt. An ocean-side picture, the water practically glowing. He swore the water in it was moving when he felt a hand brushed the back of his. He turned to the person intending to take the dish from him, a word of warning about the too warm plate on the tip of his tongue, when he came face-to-face with a face harboring red eyes.

The plate would have dropped if those hands weren't holding his. For, standing in front of him, to his dismay, was an older Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Behind him was Lucius Malfoy, the pale-haired man's hair pulled into a high ponytail, and a sharp, predatory gleam shining through those pale eyes. At his side was Professor Snape, familiar scowl in place. And he was rather certain the two coming into the hallway were Lestrange brothers. It didn't take a genius to put the pieces together, though he had never deluded the thought of his relatives being intelligent. How they missed the wands, which Hadrian could see tucked in the palm of their hands but out of sight, was something he could not quite grasp. But one thing was certain.

He was so screwed.